Watching Your World Implode
by Aquar0cks
Summary: "Sometimes being the observer is worse, sometimes being the silent helper brings more agony that joy." For the 300 years Jack was alone, barely anyone to talk to, he was a child, lost. Inside isn't just a rundown of what happened in that time, inside is a second person account on what happened. His thoughts - what was running through his head. Come and take a walk in Jack's shoes.


**Hi guys, this is my first story for ROTG- which I don't own, by the way. **

**It's also my first story in 2nd person...it wasn't actually planned to be like that, but it is...it's basically just a whole lot of internal monologue - kinda. So, sorry if I kind of go out of it or something by accident.**

**The story takes place over the years, but it doesn't really state the gap, which varies, so I'll leave that for you to figure out. **

**(I feel really bad because I should be updating my other stories, but I just had to get this out of my system after I saw the movie [WHICH IS SO EPIC!])  
**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Sometimes being the observer is worse, sometimes being the silent helper brings more agony that joy. The pain of watching those around you, those souls you've steadily somehow grown _attached _to even if to them your still invisible, slowly _grow up_ and place their teddy bears away. Every so often you'd stay around to see them grow older and fall in love, a foreign emotion you are always _just_ on the _cusp _of being able to feel properly. To have them experience heartbreaks and never being able to shelter them from the world that suddenly _grew too_ _big_ _too fast_. Then to have them have children and move on until their entire existence is summed up in a few short words and expressed through one too short song. They would always grow old and never remember all those wild games or never be able to place that feeling of always being looked after, always watched over.

Maybe it's because you always hoped for more, that every time you spied a new playmate you always hoped and hoped. Even when those children, once filled with wonder, grew old you still stayed. Maybe because you felt as if somehow if you did you'd still be a part of their story even if you were written in invisible ink. Maybe they'd even turn around and see you and take note of your existence. That hadn't happened yet. But you were patient.

'_Just waiting for that right one,' _you'd tell yourself.

Sometimes, when you were feeling down, you'd pretend those calls over the shoulder were meant for you, those last minute waves or quick smiles were directed solely to the one who had _always_ been there. Pretending was easy. Every so often you'd get so caught up that you'd actually _believe_ that maybe it was real- because Billy _certainly_ did look at you that time or Laura _purposely _ran around you. But pretending _always_ had the downside of waking up and crashing back down from your high.

With every child you promised yourself that they were _special_, they would be the one to break the bitter chain of your disappointment- but that promise was yet to be fulfilled.

Maybe next time you'll do_ better_. Maybe next time you'll _try harder _and perhaps you won't be _ignored _anymore- that had to be it, right? _You weren't_ trying hard enough, believing hard enough, your hope wasn't up to par. You weren't there. You need to spend more time with them, find out what they're talking about, and _learn_.

Learn.

Why is it so _incredibly hard_ for you to keep up with them? If you weren't so _dumb_ then maybe you could understand their trends, if you thought then maybe it would be easier for you to see their magical lands they built amongst the snow you brought. The boys your age wear hoodies, you _need _a hoodie. The girls talk, you must learn to sit still so you can understand. You _need_ to keep learning, improving yourself so maybe you'd be _worthy_ enough to be seen by them.

Yes, that was it.

The others, they're seen- they are better than you- you are not worthy of their time. But no, never can you tell them that.

'_Cling to them.'_

'_No, don't be desperate.'_

But they can _see _you, they can _talk_ to you. Get their attention. Smile, that works, never let them know how much you try to keep their gaze, how much you _savor that moment_ of interest. That would be_ pathetic_, they would hate you even more.

You _crave_ their attention so much that sometimes hate from them could be just as good as those _warm embraces_ loved ones and friends share. But while that works it doesn't quench your thirst for more, more. You are _too_ selfish, you're_ lucky_ they even spare you that distasteful glance.

You'd even practiced _hugging_ and those _glowing _expressions shown in those Drive-in movies you'd seen- _just in case_.

* * *

You find that where ever you go you make a mess, like a lost child everything you touch becomes another object in that constant game you play. They say you are not a child though, but call you ignorant, young and reckless when describing you to their friends.

_What are you then?_

They've even called you 'kid', but there's no note of any endearment. They make you feel like a little child unable to handle themselves. But no, not a child, you just look like one; and all of your 'friends' are one.

"_**Ha, what a sight- standing among the children, talking like they can be heard acting like they can be seen- news flash, kid, you can't be friends with someone who doesn't believe in you."**_

_How can you not remember anything?_

Sometimes you wonder if there's anyone else out there who feels so clueless and lost.

_Were you always like this? _

Were you always so cold and invisible?

* * *

But sometimes making a mess is just as good as attempting something good. You get the same results, just minus the disappointment and effort.

_Effort_. After so long you wonder why you keep trying. By now you are just so tired. But you have to keep going- why? You don't know, all you know is that you can't ever give up. Making snow sends the other spirits away, it works as a type of repellent your _childish_ mind conjures up- it keeps away all of the spiteful comments and killjoys while attracting and bringing joy and happiness to those who can appreciate your ideas of _fun_.

* * *

You don't always fill your head with negative thoughts, occasionally you think about what you have that even the Guardians have_ don't possess_. That is if you stop and think, you generally enjoy getting enthralled in a moment, it works better in the long run and takes away the pain.

The others, they don't understand children like you do, right? Never had you actually seen them interact with them besides those brief encounters where they quickly defuse the situation and scuttle away to continue on with their duties. Even if they stay to have a quick conversation it's almost as if they're completely at a loss on what to say- something that usually gets you laughing to deaf ears. But then again, how much you yearned for even the chance to have so many children believe in you, so many responsibilities with being so sure in yourself that you knew your purpose- that you could brush a child off. Not that you _ever_ would, you knew what it was like to be pushed aside.

* * *

What was your purpose? The time you'd spent begging and _pleading _with the moon to give you more. There you were being greedy and ungrateful again. Sometimes you wonder if the moon could even hear you, but it was the one to tell you your name. That voice, so pure and open, only for a flash of moment. But it's been the only thing to talk to you, not at you or about you like the spirits, or around you like children who were yet to be aware of _your _existence. It was the only one to use a kind tone, no insults or patronising smirks, no incredulous laughs or rejection. Or _pity_. That was the worst- especially once they left after giving you false hope that they actually might've _cared_.

The moon just gave you less than the bare minimum in revealing basic details. But in that moment it was like you were just as _important_ as the rest, like even though it made no motions to communicate after that- you were still significant enough to have heard them in the first place. You meant enough to someone to actually have them _talk to you_. Even after that, it almost seemed like that familiar glow followed you at night and watched over _you_ for once. _Kept you safe. _

You had tried to _hate _the moon, for leaving you so lost, but it was one of the closest thing you had to a….

What was the word again?

Companion- yes, but no- companion, someone to lean on, someone _there_. But not friend, never friend. You don't _deserve_ one.

The wind was another good companion, almost like a _friend_- but it never talked back, just did what it was told after years of coaxing. Sometimes it would _gently_ brush a cool breeze across your face, to _comfort you_, but those times were far and few between. It was almost like a job, something it had to do, because you're a winter_ child_. That's what you told yourself.

Why would anyone voluntarily spend time with you, when you make such messes and never learn _fast_ enough?

Now look, you're being _selfish_ again, you've got the wind and the moonbeams on your back- yet you still crave _more_.

* * *

The sad thing about craving more is the rejection that always comes with you _trying_. You've been pushed down and belittled. But you deserve that for not _trying_ hard enough, for being so abnormal and _cold_. They say you don't take things seriously, that everything's just a big joke to you.

Are they right?

You liked to bring fun wherever you go and the snow has always followed you, maybe the constant jibes at those who can see you aren't the best. You'd die without contact, yet even when you're so close to others you feel so _isolated_ and _alone._

* * *

But, at least after having 'down time' and all of those bad thoughts _leave_ your head- you can _try_ to be happy. You can try to be the child everyone assures you, you are_ not_.

When everything is good, you can breeze through days with a happy smile that you think _reaches _your eyes- it's not like you'd know if it did, but it feels like it does. Yeah, it _does_.

_You_ can have snowballs and fun time. You find it easier to pretend that you're a part of other kids' games, and if not then you can be more okay with it than when you're having 'down time'. Because when they break your _illusion_, they do it with such innocent and carefree smiles, completely unaware of what they've done. But you can also see how they're having _fun_, and there's _nothing _you'd rather bring. You'd rather be walked, ran, fallen, jumped, slipped or even skipped through _again_ and _again_, for the rest of your life if it means you still get to bring _such joy_ to other's faces.

Being happy gives you a chance to look at things with a new perspective, being filled with almost the same amount of contentment and fun you give others- the world seems _brighter_.

But you still have to admit that 'down time' is happening _a lot_ more at the moment, but it's quick, you're not sure whether you prefer having long spaced out 'down time' or lots of happy time with even more quick bursts of 'down time' in between. Either way you can always find shelter and a _safe haven_ at your lake when it all gets too much.

* * *

Lake, _your lake_. How has your lake not been thought of, maybe it's because it's become like a _home_ for you and it's….. Just there. Sometimes you go there, the place where it all started and just sit down on it's frozen surface. No matter what deep sense of foreboding and fear fills you when you come near, it's home and no home is perfect, _right_?

Besides, it's the only real thing besides the clothes on your back and staff in your hand that's _yours_.

Sometimes you even find yourself lying back at night, disregarding the cool ice beneath you and just close your eyes. It's a type of game, a pretending game, but it seems more _real_ than your other fantasy- because there's no one but you to _break_ it.

Eyes closed, imagine that a family out there is about to go to sleep and they realise that they're missing someone, then maybe they'll start to wonder where on this Earth they- _you_-could be. Or even just another spirit would take a moment to think about the child all _alone_ in the woods, then they'd come. They have to come. _They will_. It's only a matter of time until someone _comes and takes you away_ from all of this and banishes your 'down time' to nothing but a once-upon-a-time and not a right-now-present-time. It's only a matter of time until someone comes and _loves you_.

But, until then, this place wasn't so bad, here was away from anyone that could hurt you, make you feel _unreal_ and _unbelieved_ in. _Here was safe_. Here you could build snow people for contenders in whatever game _you wish_ to play, you can play the dashing hero saving the princess trapped up in her treetop tower, or build castles and dig tunnels and do anything you want because there is _no one_ there to tell you to _stop_. It's a child's dream, but also your nightmare. Like you said, this place wasn't perfect, far from it in fact.

There's only so long one can play with only _silent_ and unmoving playmates, so long one can go without another voice but your own _echoing _around such an isolated area. There is only so long you can go before you begin to _yearn_ for someone, _anyone_ to come, for someone to say

'**Can I **_**play**_**?'**

Even, **'that's too dangerous, what were you thinking, you could get hurt!'**

Just anything…_.please_.

* * *

But life goes on - _it always goes on_- and children grow up -_that will never change_- they become adults and then have children of their own. Sometimes it _angers _you when they do this. When they leave the games you'd so carefully woven for them and move on and leave you behind. Alone. Unbelieved in. After everything you've done, never once has anyone shown any appreciation, and when they do, they always confuse your name with the name of one of the _guardians_.

Why don't you just spell it out for _them_? Write your name in the snow or something equally obvious. But then if you do that, you would always be _wondering_ if they only know about you because you told them. You'd always be wondering if a child could've ever figure it out for _themselves,_ because if you just showed them- there would be no turning back to see if someone would just know and _believe_ in you _for you_ and something _you'd_ done….not what you'd shoved down their throats and practically _forced _them to believe. Belief is a sacred thing, one should never interfere with a child's beliefs, no matter how much one wants to. They should stay unhampered and pure for as long as possible.

So you just _simply _smile, take your deep breaths and go start a snowball fight somewhere. You'll _ignore_ the fact that nobody knows you're playing too. You'll ignore the snide comments muttered between encounters from other spirits and sprites, because they _don't _know anything about you.

_They _

_Know_

_**Nothing**_**.**

* * *

Over time you feel yourself slipping, into what? Numbness? You don't really know, you still wait for that special child, you still bring your snow and fun. But now it's different. Everything is still there, you have your 'down time' but instead of letting it show in blizzards and icy roads, you hide it behind an opaque mask- something that can be so easy to see through- yet nobody has managed to not look through_ it _or the fake pretence you present.

It's like you've given up on being sad, but your still sad. Like a child who tells themselves to not be _scared_ of the dark but still finds themselves petrified when the sun goes down- still _unaware_ of how the darkness gives them a _perfect_ view of the stars and moon.

Unsure now, _huh_? That's what comes when you don't learn enough, why don't you learn_ more_?

You think your falling into another dark 'down time' again.

Hood up, deep breath, maybe take a break at your lake then head back out with that smile of yours that you _don't think_ reaches your eyes- it's not like you'd know if it did, but it feels like it doesn't. No, it _doesn't_.

But at the same time it so _effortlessly_ does.

_So what does that leave for you to do?_

* * *

You've decided that for now you'll wait. For now you'll be _content _with the silence that surrounds you and find comfort in the wind that lifts you off your feet. For now you will focus on one thing, not the other spirits, it'll be on the children. Yes, the children. When you stand _with_ them you feel like you can lie to yourself and act like you belong. Amongst the other spirits you stand as if on opposite sides, there's no way to turn such burning comments or searing glares and exasperated sighs into another part of your delusional fantasy world.

For now you'll be _thankful_. Yes, for what you're thankful for is a mystery, but you're still thankful. For now the hope you possess will be enough, your dream that one day everyone will know your name. For now you can wait to feel what it's liked to be loved and wanted and acknowledged. From what you've gathered you have eternity. Yes, for now you'll wait.

One day the world will need Jack Frost. The same people that ignored him will beg for his assistance. Those who ridiculed him will bow at his feet. The children that grew up without even batting an eyelash in his direction will learn their mistake.

When that day comes you'll only have to a single choice:

Do you chose to turn your back on those who turned their backs to you or do you prove the world wrong and make everyone realise just how much they underestimated you?

The choice is yours.

* * *

**So...I hoped you liked it?**

**There were parts in this story where I wasn't 100% sure I wanted to use or were in the right place...but I didn't want to change them, if you know what I mean.**

**The whole ending thing about how the world would need Jack and beg for his assistance and stuff was supposed to be written out of second person, because it sounded better and had more of an effect that way. Just in case you weren't sure...**

**Sorry if Jack sounded a bit OOC, he just kind of started coming out like that and I didn't want to get rid of it and write something about how he was fine over all that time alone, because nobody would be.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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